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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124621">the room with no windows</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_steve/pseuds/call_me_steve'>call_me_steve</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>whumptober 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(just for the weekend, Background Dick Grayson - Freeform, Blood and Injury, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Day 6: "Stop- please", Dick Grayson is Batman, Gen, Hurt Damian Wayne, Hurt No Comfort, Puzzles, Riddles, Whumptober 2020, cuz b is out of the country), kind of, this is so late oh my gosh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:47:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_steve/pseuds/call_me_steve</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Riddler's tricks always take a Bat and a Bird- the Bat to make a choice, and the Bird to be the bait. This time, though, there doesn't seem like there's a choice to make. All there is is a wild goose chase for Batman, and an old study for Robin. </p><p>Then the wall starts moving, and Damian has to solve the puzzle.</p><p>-</p><p>Or, in which: Dick is Batman for the weekend, Damian is his Robin; Robin gets abducted by the Riddler and thrown into some ancient office with no way out; Batman is sent on a wild goose chase full of terrible riddles; Damian begins to solve the puzzle, which is the only exit; and the walls start moving, threatening to crush him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>whumptober 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the room with no windows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so this is like,,,, super heavily based on the opening of Escape Room (2019),,, like,,,,,,, SO much so. so. haha. ;) im unoriginal and kinda just wanted to write this. i think this can be an honorary part of day 4, running out of time, right?? haha</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Back when Richard had first given Damian the title of Robin, he’d forced him to learn all about Gotham’s rouges. From the ones locked in Arkham and the ones who haven’t tried anything in a while to the constant offenders, Damian learned of them all. There was Poison Ivy, deadly and currently in kahoots with Harley; Harley Quinn, Gotham’s local semi-anti-hero; Clayface, though he hadn’t done much of anything as of late; and there was Scarecrow, a dangerous foe to go against because his updated Fear Gas always found its way into your bloodstream. </p><p>The one that Damian had laughed at, in the end, hadn’t been Calendar Man, Penguin or Two Face. It had been the man dressed in green, who carried a golden cane and wore the world’s gaudiest bowler hat. </p><p>Throughout the Riddler’s history- Richard had drilled all of this into Damian’s brain- his tricks and traps had stayed relatively the same. They always took a Bat and a Bird- the former to make a choice and the latter to be the bait. <em> Will you choose the many, or the few? </em> the question remained. <em> The hundred or the one? </em> It was a constant race against time, always as odd as they were dangerous. Above everything else, however, the Riddler’s traps were <em> never </em> to be underestimated.</p><p>Now, as Damian sits in a quaint, furnished study, he scoffs at Richard’s words. He’d been told that starting any of the Riddler’s puzzles normally resulted in some sort of countdown being triggered, and was thus advised not to take a crack at any brain teaser unless he was absolutely sure he knew the correct answer. On top of that, Damian had been schooled on the proper “kidnapped by the Riddler” procedures. </p><p>Allow Batman time to get to him, unless the situation was dire. </p><p>Looking around him, the situation <em> hardly </em> looked dire. The study was almost <em> cozy. </em> Full bookcases lined two of the walls, along with expensive paintings and knick knacks. The floor was covered in tables and chairs, ranging from desks to chess tables, chests of books to scrolls of paper. There was hardly a clear space to walk through, beyond the center of the room, where a clear strip had been made. This path connected the burning fireplace to the exit. </p><p>The only exit, Damian noted, seeing as there was no escape through the ceiling or the fireplace itself. </p><p>The exit consisted of two, looming, wooden doors. Rather than having handles, the doors were kept closed, and together, by a large rectangular mechanism that served as the room’s puzzle. In the center of the rectangle sat a glowing square with four ports. On the edge of the rectangle were ten black, sliding pegs. Each one bore a slim number, written on in some sort of murky golden color. Damian realized that he had to figure out a four digit code in order to escape the room, and then drag the respective peg to its respective port in order to get out. </p><p>Despite being brilliant enough to get himself out, Damian had refrained from touching the puzzle. When he’d woken up in the cluttered, cozy study at first, he’d taken stock of his equipment. Gone was his red tunic, his green boots and gloves, and his yellow utility belt and cape. All he’d been left with was his underclothes, which was made up of a tight undershirt and his flexible pants. The Riddler had actually taken his socks- his feet, right now, are bare and the floor is cold beneath them. </p><p>At least he still had his mask and his comms, he decided. Even if he had been stripped of any useful weapons or tools, he still had his identity under lock and key. Plus, he could communicate with Richard.</p><p>The first thing Richard had said when Damian woke up had been a breathy, <em> Of all days, the Riddler </em> has <em> to strike when B and RR are out of town. </em> </p><p>That had done <em> wonders </em> for Damian’s confidence. </p><p>It wasn’t as if Richard <em> wasn’t </em> smart. Far from it- but, he wasn’t as good at puzzles like Timothy was. He also didn’t have as much experience being the <em> Bat </em> in these kinds of scenarios as Father did. This was the first time, he claimed, that he’d ever <em> been </em> the Bat. After all, when Father had been thought of as dead, the Riddler hadn’t ever attacked. </p><p>But, now Richard was Batman because Father was out of the country, and Timothy was on a mission with the Teen Titans. <em> Richard </em> was Batman, and he had to <em> hurry his sorry butt up </em> because Damian didn’t really want to be in this stupid study any longer than he had to. He’s so bored, he’s even contemplating playing chess against himself with the beautiful set sitting near the fireplace.</p><p>“Can I begin on the puzzle, yet?” he asks Richard, through the comms. He’d been told to wait until Richard had a proper grasp on the situation. Given how long Damian’s been sitting in this room for, he’s certain Richard has had enough time to figure out what’s going on. “Or, at least, can I begin looking for <em> clues?” </em> </p><p>Richard sighs over the connection, and Damian imagines he’s itching to run a hand through his hair to quell his nerves. However, with the cowl, that’s sort of impossible to do. <em> “Look for clues, but don’t touch the puzzle yet. I don’t know what kind of trap he’s set up for you, and I’d feel better if you knew the answer before attempting it, okay?” </em> </p><p>“You assume so little from me,” Damian returns, attempting to joke. He’s not sure if it has it’s desired effect- Richard sounds tense and scattered, and Damian wishes he had the chance to take a breather. “Do you know what the Riddler’s plan is?” </p><p><em> “Besides kidnapping you and sending me on a wild goose chase?” </em> Richard asks. <em> “No, not yet. There doesn’t seem to be another side to the trap. There’s no one else to save as far as I can tell.”  </em></p><p>With a hum, Damian stands up from the plush chair beneath him and reaches out to spin the old globe sitting beside him. It’s not in blue and green, rather it’s in shades of brown like most everything else in the room. There’s very little color variation, which makes for a wonderful sight. The longer he stares around the room, the more things that he finds amiss the clutter. </p><p><em> “These riddles aren’t even that </em> good! <em> Like- ‘what is it that no man wants, but no man wants to lose?’ So I thought about it, and realized the answer was a lawsuit, right? So I figured I had to go to the court house, but there’s nothing </em> in <em> the court house-”  </em></p><p>Damian allows Richard’s rambling to fade to the back of his mind as he surveys the room. Looking through the books would, possibly, take up more time than he has. So would looking through all of the drawers that are scattered around. <em> Everything </em> in this study would take time to look through, Damian realizes. </p><p>With that in mind, he lets his mind fall silent as his instincts take over. His feet take him to the basket of large scrolls. He takes the lightest-colored one into his hands and unrolls it, letting the bottom of the paper hit the floor. There’s a complicated design covering the paper, all spiraling into a type of sun sitting in the center. In cursive, in the center, sits the words,</p><p>
  <em> Follow the light to </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Greener pastures </em>
</p><p>“Follow the light to greener pastures,” Damian repeats, out loud. He accidentally must have cut Richard off, because all he hears is silence over the comms for a moment. </p><p><em> “Is that your clue, or mine? It sounds kind of cryptic.” </em> </p><p>“Mine. I suppose I’m looking for a sort of light that’s pointing to something, if it’s as on the nose as it reads.” </p><p><em> “You found that pretty fast. Maybe we should have switched places, huh?” </em> </p><p>As Damian sweeps the room for any light besides the fireplace, he clicks his tongue. “Perhaps someday, Batman. Now focus.” </p><p>Damian begins wading through the clutter with careful steps. There’s a few lamps in the room, but all of them are aiming upwards. Without his gear, Damian won’t be making his exit out of the ceiling right now, and the Riddler knows it. That means that the answer to the riddle <em> can’t </em> be the ceiling- besides, there <em> aren’t </em> any exits out that way, unless he had something strong enough to break through the tiles. </p><p>He investigates the first one carefully, running his fingers over its base and then the fabric holding the light in. This one seems to have nothing to give, so he turns away and heads for the second one. They look the exact same from a distance, but up close, Damian notices that the black swirls are different. </p><p>It’s as he’s inspecting the fabric on the second one that he hears the shudder, and then the following thunk. He whirls around, almost expecting the doors to open or something to have been triggered, but all he finds is the third lamp, no longer standing up straight. It’s leaning on one of the drawers, the top spilling light out like some sort of spotlight- </p><p><em> Oh, </em> Damian thinks, eyes following the trail. The light bulb singles out one of the top bookcases, illuminating a collection of brown and black tomes, and a single, green, hard cover. </p><p>It’s <em> also </em> then that Damian realizes that the walls have moved. No- that’s not right. <em> One </em> of the walls has moved- that far one with the fireplace. The movement was so <em> small </em> that he’s honestly surprised he even noticed. Whereas before the wall had given the rest of the room and it’s clutter a small berth of space, now it’s sides are pressed up against another chest of drawers.</p><p>He lets his gaze rest on the offending spot for a moment. “I believe I found the second clue,” he says, carefully. He averts his eyes- the wall isn’t moving again- and starts the trek over to the bookcase. There’s a rolling ladder attached to the wall. Damian scales it and still has to stretch in order to reach the green book. </p><p><em> “You’re doing better than me,” </em> Richard sighs. <em> “What’s clue number two?” </em> </p><p>“A book- green cover.” </p><p><em> “Ah, </em> greener <em> pastures. I get it. At least that one kind of makes sense- but it wasn’t his traditional riddle. What’s he playing at?” </em></p><p>Damian begins climbing down when he notices that the wall has moved again. It’s hardly gained an inch, now butting up against the very corner of the shelf where Damian had taken the book from. He has a blooming understanding that that’s not very good, but it’s moving so slow he’s sure that it can’t possibly present a problem. “Perhaps he’s attempting something new,” he replies, to Richard. </p><p>Once he’s on the ground, he retreats to his previous seat on a plush, red chair. There’s a bookmark on one of the pages. He flips to it. </p><p>Richard lets out a heavy groan, this time. <em> “Why does the Riddler </em> suck <em> so much? ‘What’s black and white and red all over?’ Gosh, I dunno, it’s not like I’ve heard </em> this <em> one before.”  </em></p><p>If Damian had been any one of his other siblings, or even Stephanie, he’d have responded with something just as inane and silly. Instead, Damian decides to ignore Richard again in order to read what he’s found. On the left page is a drawing of a man in some sort of medieval outfit. On the other is, what Damian assumes, to be his clue. </p><p>
  <em> At any point in history, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> To watch another die, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Unveils time’s great mystery, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> While leaving you alive. </em>
</p><p>The wall moves and Damian’s stomach has the absolute <em> gall </em> to churn. </p><p>At first, he thinks that maybe this means that the puzzle on the door is pointless. Maybe Damian’s supposed to die here, in this stupid, ornate study. Maybe his comm had been left in so that Richard could listen as he died, however that’s supposed to happen. The wall is moving so slowly that Damian’s sure that <em> that </em> won’t be the cause of death. No- maybe the study will fill with some sort of poisonous gas. </p><p>There’s an awful lot of maybes, Damian thinks. </p><p>Then his mind catches up and forces him to think. History might be referring to the time this room has been placed in. There’s no phone or any sort of modern day technology. Even the paintings on the walls are old. It’s not as if <em> that </em> helps him much, of course. Damian makes the decision to skip over the second line and move on to the third, as Richard wails about the Gotham Gazette and how much he hates reporters. </p><p><em> Time. </em> A clock, perhaps? Is he looking for some sort of clock? But, no. There are no clocks in the study. There’s books, clutter, drawers. The only sort of wall decoration that even slightly mirrors a clock are those paintings- </p><p>The <em> paintings! </em></p><p>Damian stands, again, and moves towards them. They’re up higher than his head reaches, so he has to drag over a table and crawl on top of it to get a good look at them. Besides the smaller ones scattered around the room, there’s five sitting above the fireplace. One in the center, and then two on either side. In each one, there’s someone <em> pointing </em>somewhere. </p><p><em> Ahah! </em> </p><p>(The wall moves, and pushes Damian’s table up against the stack of books behind it. The books spill to the ground with a mighty <em> thud!) </em></p><p>The top left painting depicts a hospital scene, with someone lying on a gurney. There’s a plethora of men in suits watching what Damian assumes to be a live surgery. <em> To watch another person die, </em> he thinks. This <em> must </em> be it. Below that one is a painting with a child. The child is staring at the only reference to modern day technology- an old, box TV. His finger is raised up, pointing at the screen. To the right is a painting of a well dressed man holding a decapitated head- an execution using guillotines. He’s pointing his hand downwards. Above that is the final painting- a mosaic of a man fighting off a lion with a spear.</p><p><em> Unveils time’s greatest mystery- time, time, time- Oh! </em> </p><p>“They’re representing the hands on a clock!” Damian nearly shouts. </p><p><em> “What’s representing the hands on a clock?” </em> asks Richard. Then, to himself, <em> “What kind of goose chase is the Riddler sending me on?”  </em></p><p>Damian regards the paintings carefully. The surgeon is pointing to four o’clock, he figures, and the child to two. The spear aims closer towards eight, and the final one at six. Four, two, eight six. </p><p>Four, two, eight, six- There are four times- no, four <em> numbers. </em> There are four ports on the puzzle, too, meaning-</p><p>“Batman, I’ve got the code-!” </p><p>Just as he shouts, the wall gives its biggest lurch yet, sending Damian and the table clattering to the ground. The cards that had been previously sitting on the table top flitter to the floor along. As quickly as he can, Damian scrambles to his feet and heads for the contraption on the door, not bothering to wait for Richard’s go ahead. </p><p>He’s only just moved the <em> 4 </em> peg when a horrible scraping sound reaches his ears.</p><p>Damian abandons the peg and turns to look behind him. No longer is the wall slowly pushing forward every once in a while. Now it’s moving forward at a constant, alarming pace. It’s not slow. It’s so extremely <em> not </em> slow. </p><p>As the wall slides closer, it pushes everything forward. Wood cracks and any lamps fixed to the walls break as the moving side meets it. Damian can’t help but stare, almost entranced, as the ladder he used falls to the ground and splinters in half. With it, it takes out a plethora of glass jars. The globe he’d spun falls out of its pedestal and begins to roll, bumping into everything it passes. The fallen lamp screeches in protest as it’s dragged against the floor, along with the plethora of furniture in the room. </p><p>“Batman,” Damian hazards, cutting over one of Richard’s cheers- <em> Nice going, R! Just give me a bit longer before you put in the co- </em> “Batman, the wall is moving. It’s going to crush everything inside.” </p><p>Richard’s tone falls from joyful and tired to alarmed and fearful. <em> “Put in the code, R. I’ll try to pick up the pace here and meet you on the other side, okay?” </em> </p><p>Damian begins moving, not bothering to respond, and hurriedly pulls the pegs through the odd maze-like paths that have been etched into the rectangle. The <em> 4 </em> clicks into place in the top left port, and Damian begins pulling the <em> 2 </em> peg to the bottom left one. Just as he gets it midway, the shimmering chandelier falls from the ceiling and shatters against the remains of the table sitting on the ground. </p><p>Panic starts to crawl up his throat. He knows what the clutter has been put there for, now. Once the wall gets close enough, all of the wooden remains will be deadly. They’ll be able to impale Damian if he’s not careful about it. Seeing how fast the wall’s moving, Damian’s worried it’ll be a serious concern-</p><p>No, he’s not worried. He knows the code, and when the <em> 2 </em> slides into its port, he’s already halfway done. He’ll be out of here before the wall becomes a serious threat. </p><p>The <em> 8 </em> has to travel up to the top right port, and by the time that one finds its home, the sound of cracking wood is driving Damian insane. A red faced table prods his thigh, pushing against it with a big enough threat that Damian decides to crawl on top of it. As soon as all of his weight settles on the table, it breaks beneath him and sends him falling back down to the ground. He hits and tries for a roll, biting down on his shout of surprise. He’s not hurt- just startled. </p><p>Damian shoves himself to his feet as another one of the wall lights is torn from the wall. It flickers and bursts in a fit of sparks, making him scuttle back to avoid the electric shards. </p><p><em> “Is it working?” </em> Richard asks. <em> “Is everything okay?” </em></p><p>“I only have one last number to put in,” Damian returns, wading over the debris-</p><p>He only just leaps out of the way as one of the bookcases- the one, of two, set in the center of the room to separate it in half- crashes to the ground to his left. He shouts and looks for the second one, watching it teeter uncertainty. So as long as he’s standing in front of the puzzle, in the middle of this side of the room, he’ll be alright. That doesn’t mean that when the case <em> bursts, </em> none of the wood will hurt him, but. </p><p>“Come on,” he tells himself, as the plush chair he’d been sitting in is compressed between the pushing wall and the shaking bookcase. When it splinters, it sends the case careening to the ground, where it, too, breaks apart. </p><p>Damian grabs the final peg, the number six, and begins to move it. </p><p>Behind him, the rugs are being pulled up from the ground. Glass is breaking, paintings are shattering. Chess pieces tumble to the floor, and all he can do is keep his hand steady as he moves it to its respective port. He hazards a look at the opposing wall, the peg sliding to the left. It’s almost close enough for him to touch. </p><p>Number six slides into place, and-</p><p>“Batman,” Damian whispers. Something chinks and hisses, and he makes to move. <em> “Batman.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Robin? Are you out? I think I might know where you are-” </em>
</p><p>“Batman, it didn’t <em> work.” </em> </p><p>It <em> hadn’t. </em> The wall is still moving. The numbers, the four and the eight, then the two and the six below that, gleam in what little light he’s been left. It looks like it’s giving him a mocking look, and Damian’s stomach churns as he realizes that it’s too late to try and fix this. There’s not enough time to redo the code, not enough time to pry the doors open. He <em> is </em> going to die here, crushed to bits and pieces between the two walls. He’s going to die, and there will be nothing left of him to scrape back up. </p><p>The wall moves close enough that when Damian stretches out his arm, his hand meets the fine wood. All of the clutter that had previously occupied the study pokes and prods him. </p><p>In his ear, Richard’s voice grows panicked and desperate. <em> “What do you mean it didn’t work? Robin- </em> Damian, <em> what do you mean?” </em></p><p>Damian can’t muster up a response. His thoughts catch around the fact that he’s going to<em> die, </em> again. Irrationally, his hands begin pressing against the moving wall as if he can stop it from moving any more. The pegs stab into his back in protest, telling him that there’s nothing he can do to save himself without a little pain. </p><p><em> “Stop!” </em> he cries out, gritting his teeth. “Stop- <em> please-!” </em> </p><p>Nothing stops. Something <em> sharp </em> pierces his thigh- a million sharp points, pressing until the skin gives way. The sudden pain makes him scream, and he slaps his hand down onto the wall as his leg bucks away from the offending shard of wood. </p><p>
  <em> “Damian!” </em>
</p><p>Too much is going on, now- Damian thrusts Richard’s voice into the background with his thoughts as his mind rewires. Years of League training kicks in and stills his vocal cords. Damian goes silent. He goes so, very silent, and doesn’t have the time to notice it when something drips down his cheek. His bare feet brace against the floor. The wall nears closer to his head, and he aims his face heaven-ward, opening his mouth to scream even though nothing comes out- There has to be <em> something </em> he can <em> do- </em></p><p>His eyes catch on the fireplace, on the glinting shield pressed up beside it, and he acts. </p><p>The flames feel hot against his body, licking his fingers and toes as he yanks the shield free. He uses the outside of the shield to force the fire and kindling back, giving him just enough room to drag his failing leg and trembling body into the tiny crevice he’d made himself. </p><p>If before, the cracking of the wood had driven him insane, it’s <em> unbearable </em> now. He can’t spare a hand to clap over his ears, so he settles for pressing his entire body weight against the shield in hopes that none of the wood can touch him. Damian must be choking- he feels like he’s choking, choking on something like a sob or a scream that all of his training can’t seem to let go of. His extremities protest at the bite of the fire, and his leg <em> screeches </em> at the horrible, white hot pain that continues to throb there. </p><p>He molds his lips, rounds them, and says a silent, <em> Please. </em> </p><p>The moving wall pushes right through the stagnant one, and after that, Damian knows no more. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tell me what you think!! comments are my life blood and will ensure i get the last handful of prompts im doing done,,, tho i have no idea what dami pairings (only platonic of course) to do,,,,,,,,</p><p>uhhhh??? if any yall have any ideas on what to do/write for whumptober :) feel free to comment haha</p><p>talk to me at my tumblr: <a href="https://potato-reblob.tumblr.com/">potato-reblob</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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